


As the Kandrona Shines

by winkwonk



Category: Animorphs (TV)
Genre: Gen, xenofiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-11 00:36:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4414073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winkwonk/pseuds/winkwonk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We were Gedds together. Or rather, they were Gedds with me, back in the early days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As the Kandrona Shines

We were Gedds together. Or rather, they were Gedds with me, back in the early days. Maybe it's a silly thing to be sentimental about. It's one thing to wax poetic about the intimacy of the pool, but to cherish a bond that was formed in the open air, within the shells of your hosts? It was almost obscene.

But you have to understand. They were there when I saw for the first time. I think before I even saw the green of the sky, I saw them, and they saw me, and together we discovered the world. In those early days it was a paradise, and all too quickly it came crumbling down. One day your comrade would get a Hork-Bajir body and suddenly it was as if those days spent running and gazing up at the sky never happened. They would mock. _You think_ that _is running? You think_ that _is seeing?_ They would push you to the ground and laugh. Some, I think, forget that we are all Yeerks.

But not them.

I looked up from the basin of dirty dishes to see them approaching the human nutritional facility—Neskar slouching in his Taxxon body, his own shyness showing through no matter what his host, while Endri took great strides with her long, evenly-proportioned human legs. As they drew nearer I could hear her saying “Come on, it won't be that bad.”

At this late hour there were only a few human Controllers finishing up their meals, all of them taking notice at the sudden appearance of a Taxxon. Human expressions are subtle, and without first hand experience I found them difficult to read, but I recognized their looks of antipathy. And as Neskar ducked into the seat nearest to the door, Endri returned the glares with her own silent challenge. One human left the counter; the two in the corner looked away and quickened their pace. Satisfied, Endri turned back to me with a wide smile. Subtle _and_ dynamic.

“I believe you have something for me, Darusk?”

I responded with a disdainful snort, but reached below the counter even as I said “Rrr hello would be nice.”

Neskar was typing furiously on his translation pad.

“HI DARUSK HI DARUSK HI MAY THE KANDORNA SHINE AND STRENGTHEN YOU”

“Andrrr you.” I nodded. “At least some of us have rr mannerrrrs.”

“At least some of us can spell 'Kandrona'. Aww yeah...” Endri lifted the lid of her platter, “Hey! What is this?”

“Rrrr best cut saved just forrrrr you.”

“Dry skinless chicken and boiled beets. I swear, whoever thought of this Healthy Hosts program probably had a host born with a stick up his ass.”

The last of the humans left, dumping their plates on the counter without so much as looking at me. Endri shoved a spoonful of beets into her mouth. I watched her put on a big performance of disgust for a moment before pulling out the platter of deep-fried cephalopods. Endri made a shrill, ear-splitting noise and threw the unwanted plate at Neskar, who began devouring it, dish and all.

“I knew you'd come through for me, Darusk.” She raised a long, golden tentacle above her head and leaned back, opening her mouth and letting it drop.

“You arrrre as bad as a Taxxon.” I said, and the two of us winced, looking at Neskar. He finished the chicken and was now working on a raw steak, oozing with blood. We both remembered how he was after his first taste of Taxxon flesh. We held him long into the night as his body shook and hissed in pain, and when he was able to type, all he could speak about was the hunger.

It did not get better with time.

But Neskar ignored my slip. That was Neskar. Always forgiving of his friends, even when we didn't deserve it.

“You should request a new host.” Endri whispered. “You could get a Hork-Bajir. I mean, I'd love it if you got a human.”

“BUT THEN I WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO SPEND SO MUCH TIME WITH OUR BELOVED VISSER”

Endri and I had a good laugh at that, but I noticed she was looking at me expectantly.

We had been over this. _“I could put in a good word for you._ _You can't tell me you're happy scrubbing toilets.”_ _“I have learrrrned to live with the carrrds I was dealt.”_ And so on.

There were times when her pity hurt more than the disdain of millions.

I could very easily fall into this argument again, but it was late, and I'd had a long shift. So instead I took her now empty plate and held out my other hand.

“I believe you have rrrrr something forrr me as well.”

Humans tend to have very specific passions, as varied as the many species that inhabit their planet, and I have noticed that those who take human hosts tend to succumb to these passions. Caring for and feeding plants, creating music, collecting cards with pictures of fictional creatures. They might _say_ it's to placate their hosts, but then—look at Endri and her fried cephalopods.

She pulled out a heavy book from the blue bag she'd had over her shoulder. _The Collected Oscar Wilde_. It was next on my list after finishing Dickens. Humans had produced a terrifying amount of literature in a brief span of time, and maybe even I was succumbing too, even without taking one as a host. Maybe I preferred to observe them from the comfort of my Gedd brain, so simple and familiar to me by now that I often forgot it was there.

Until those moments early in the morning when I looked at Neskar, anxious to go off in search of his next meal, and Endri, unable to keep her host from yawning, and I remembered the three of us just leaning back and looking up at the lightning-streaked sky and it was like I was there again, all of us so innocent. I would feel a pang of longing other than my own and I wouldn't even try to suppress it. Let the host want what it wants.

Who am I to talk of hopelessness?

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I had an idea for a series exploring different Yeerks and their hosts, but lately I've been into things that aren't Animorphs, so I probably won't continue. But this was fun to write and it works as a standalone. Thanks for reading.


End file.
